


They Tell Me You're All I Got

by relised



Series: RIP; You & Me [6]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Drug Withdrawal, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, NA meetings, Psych Ward, Rehab, Relapsing, Suicide Attempt, billy needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 17:29:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19468717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relised/pseuds/relised
Summary: Billy takes his meds. Tries to talk with his therapist. Tries to make amends even if he doesn't know how.Steve goes to meetings. Works an insane amount of overtime. Runs even more insane distances just to keep his mind off the need to use.But sometimes doing what your supposed to isn't enough.





	They Tell Me You're All I Got

**Author's Note:**

> Please pay attention to the tags! Be careful, my friends.

Steve hissed as the nurse poked a needle into his gums, the numbing agent working it's magic. She gently replaced the gauze pressed into his cheeks trying to soak up some of the blood before it could roll down his throat again. She gave him a sad smile as she picked up the discarded ice pack laying on the bed. Pressing it into his good hand, the nurse guided his hand up to his jaw.

"Dr. Miller will be in shortly to get started once the Novocaine has kicked in," she said, gently pressing a needle into the IV in his arm. She pulled the call light closer to him before turning to leave. "My name is Janice if you need anything." Steve nodded as she patted his shoulder, the action sending a shot of pain through his dislocated shoulder. With a huff, he let his head fall back on the pillows behind him as the oxygen canola in his nose soothed his breathing.

Billy had broken his jaw in three places. When Steve closed his eyes, he could see the dark expression cross Billy's face as his words rang in Steve's ears.

"Oh, of course! Daddy will throw money at the problem until it goes away! Maybe if he gives you enough of an allowance, you can put enough blow up your nose that you won't wake up! Won't that solve all your problems!"

Once again, Steve had thrown the first punch, getting a few good hits in before Billy started swinging, knocking him to the floor before straddling him and repeatedly beating his face in. Steve could remember spitting out a tooth as he tried to get the blood out of his mouth. The nurse had said he was lucky; it was a molar rather than a front tooth. Steve was in too much pain to tell her luck was the fact that Billy hadn't killed him. As the high from the last of the drugs in his system faded, the possibility of Billy killing him hit him like a sucker punch to the gut.

He still wasn't sure what he had done to upset the blonde so much. Yes, there had been a misunderstanding about their plans following graduation, but Steve had never intended to just leave town and leave Billy behind. He had thought Billy had known that, even though they had never talked about it. And yes, Billy was on edge after a run in with dad; he was always on edge after having a run in with Neil. But that didn't explain why Billy had said all those awful things to Steve.

"Mr. Harrington," an older man in a white coat said, giving him a warm smile as he pulled on a pair of gloves. "I'm Dr. Miller; as my colleague Dr. Davis has said, we're going to have to wire your jaw shut for it to heal properly." Steve nodded, pulling the ice pack away from his face as Dr. Miller rolled his chair closer to the procedure bed. Janice stood near by, rolling a table of supplies to his side. He closed his eyes as the doctor worked swiftly, pulling the gauze our of his gum line as he sucked the blood from his mouth. "Looks like someone really did a number on you, kid."

Steve snorted, tightening his grip on the arm rest of the chair as the doctor slowly fitted the metal into his mouth. He wanted to say that it's not the first time Billy had beat the shit out of him and that he'd asked for it by letting Billy think he was going to leave behind and then again when expecting Billy would follow him. Instead, he kept his eyes closed as the doctor swiftly worked, humming to the radio. As he tightened the wires, Dr. Miller told him about follow-up appointments, tightening needs, and the need to keep his oral intake up even though he can only eat soft foods. Steve hummed in agreement, not really listening.

Hopper was waiting in his room when Janice rolled him in in a wheelchair. The chief watched him as he slowly slid into his bed, hissing in pain as his head throbbed. The nurse whispered something about a concussion and keeping him awake to Hopper before she walked away. Hop nodded, leaning forward in his chair.

"Joyce went home to check on Will. How you feeling, kid?" He asked and Steve wanted to laugh but instead a sob escape him. "Hey, it's okay. You're going to be okay."

"I-," Steve started, flinching in pain as he tried to open his jaw but the wires held strong. "I don't want to press charges." Hopper studied Steve's broken face for a beat before he nodded.

"I've been working with the DA on getting Billy help, not jail time. I know you think this a fluke thing, that he didn't mean. And I don't think he necessarily meant it either. But he's not safe to be around when he's like this, Steve. That hairpin trigger of his; it's going to get someone killed. That someone could have easily been you."

"He's not a bad person," Steve slurred, trying to move his arm in the sling to a more comfortable position. "He's just angry. After his dad..."

"I'm not saying he's a bad person, Steve. I'm saying that all that anger is building up in him and that without an outlet, he's a danger to himself and to others. But I'm getting him help, you don't need to worry about that. What you need to worry about is you," Hopper said, raising a brow at Steve. "Are your parent's coming home for Graduation?"

Steve nodded, flinching at the throbbing in his head.

"I think we're going to have to have a talk about the drugs. I'm not going to let you run off to Chicago on your own without getting a handle on that. You've been telling me you quit, but obviously you haven't been able to do it on your own."

"You're gonna send me away, too?" Steve sneered, trying to steel himself against the pain the expression caused from his bruised face.

"Don't think of it as sending you away," Hopper said quietly, reaching out to squeeze Steve's leg slightly. "Think of it as saving you from yourself."

***  
The first couple days at the psych ward were rough for Billy and it was only the threat of a straight jacket that kept him from driving his fist into the orderly's face when the man bossed him around. He took the meds they put in front of him, only answered the bare minimum in his one on one sessions with a therapist. He sat silent in group therapy with his arms crossed, refusing to open up.

"We can't help you if you won't talk to us, Billy," Dr. Wilkins had said the day before. "Remember, you have to convince me you're ready to leave before you can get out of here." Billy had sighed, changing his responses to mostly full sentences rather than one or two word answers.

He hated therapy. He hated the other patient's who wondered around, mumbling to themselves and acting like they'd break if anyone raised their voice. He hated the drugs, the way they made him feel sluggish, sometimes unable to get the words out while they circled his foggy brain. He hated the pitying looks Jean would give him when he tried to fight through the stupor the sedating drugs left him in. Most of all, he hated himself for wherever he had gone wrong in life to land him here.

It was 72 hours before he was able to have any visitors, and it was another 72 hours after that before anyone actually came. Billy hadn't really expected anyone to come; he was here because he had hurt Steve. Repeatedly. Who was going to care enough about Billy after that?

He had been sitting in the art room, quietly sketching while one of the other patients talked to themselves in the corner. Billy was drawing Steve, a memory from an unseasonably warm day in April where they had laid shirtless by the pool, passing a joint back and forth. Steve had smiled over at him lazily at one point with his Ray Bans pushed up onto his head, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

" _What are you looking at, Pretty Boy?" Billy had asked._

_"Just at how perfect you are," Steve had smiled, letting out a peel of laughter when Billy threw his shirt at him._

"Billy?" A voice called, and he looked up to see Jean in the doorway. "There's someone here to see you." He followed the nurse out of the room, his mind running a million miles a minute. For some reason, he could only imagine Neil being there to yell at him. He was surprised to see Hopper sitting in a chair in the corner of the visiting room, hat in his hands.

"Hey, kid," he said, gesturing for Billy to sit down. "How you feeling?"

"Like...Like my brains full of cotton," he said as he dropped heavily on the small couch next to the chief. "Like everything is happening super slow and that my reflexes are even slower. I...can still feel all this anger like right under the surface, but by the time my mind catches up to react it's gone."

Hopper nodded, offering Billy a cigarette from his pack of Camels which Billy took immediately. He took a deep pull on his cigarette, studying Billy's face.

"That would be the meds. What have they told you, diagnosis wise?"

"Not much," Billy said, lighting his own cigarette. "Just that they have an understanding of where the angers coming from."

"Have you heard of something called Intermittent Explosive Disorder?" Hopper asked carefully. Billy furrowed his brow as he took another drag on his cigarette and shook his head. "Doc says it's a disorder characterized by explosive outburst of anger and violence. Rage blackouts. Intense reactions that don't match the triggering incident. Sound familiar?"

"Is that what they think is wrong with me?" Billy asked quietly, staring down at the cigarette in his right hand, his left playing with the ID bracelet that said "Hargrove, William N. 10/18/1967" on it.

"You fit all the signs. Doctor Wilkins thinks it may have something to do with your relationship with your dad. Exposure to repeated violence, repeated head injuries, your history of concussions from-"

"From my old man, yeah. Got it. What does he say about me being here?"

"Don't know," Hopper said with a sigh. "He won't return my calls. I've been working with your step-mom, mainly." The two men sat quietly for several minutes, each pulling slowly on their own cigarettes. Finally Hopper sighed. "Graduation's tomorrow."

Billy hummed in response, letting out a mouthful of smoke. "Wasn't gonna walk anyway." He flicked ash into the ashtray resting on Hopper's knee before clearing his throat. "How's, um...How's Steve?"

"Not gonna lie, he's spiraling out of control a bit. You broke his jaw-" Hopper paused when Billy flinched. "-and we can't tell if he's just not talking because he's in pain or...I know he's still using. He keeps trying to tell us he's fine and that he's not using, but he's so strung out I can't pretend it's not happening. Joyce and I are going to talk to his parents after the ceremony tomorrow. Gonna try to get them to agree to send him to rehab in the city instead of just letting him hide away."

"They actually in town for once?" Billy asked, stubbing out the end of his cigarette in the ash tray as he sat back heavily in his chair. "I was staying in that house almost six months and I saw them maybe three times."

"Graduation's a big deal," Hopper said with a shrug. "I know...I know you never meant it to get this bad, Billy. But the drugs, the drinking, the bruises-" again he paused when Billy flinched again. "-Regardless of if you meant it or not, he's hurting. He needs help and I'm trying to get it for him. I'm trying to help both of you. I'm not saying you two can never talk again. I'm not; I know it's going to be hard, but I think you boy's need to stay away from each other until you can fix yourselves. I know you don't want to be here. I know you don't want to take the meds or do the therapy. But Billy, you need to. And I will help you, I will help Steve as much as I can. I'm not going to give up on either of you. Neither is Joyce. I promise."

"I don't think staying away from each other is going to be hard," Billy said quietly. "If he doesn't already hate me, he should. I ruined his fucking life. I don't know why any of you want to keep me around."

Billy leaned forward, letting his head fall into his hands. His foggy brain swam as his eyes stung with tears. Hop reached over, placing a steadying hand between his shaking shoulders.

"He doesn't hate you," Hopper said gently. "And we all care about you. Like it or not, kid, but you're family now. It's going to get better. It will get better."

Finally Billy looked up, nodding as he brushed at the tears on his face. "Just make sure he gets help," he whispered, climbing to his feet to follow Jean back to his room.

***

The incident, as everyone else had taken to calling that night, had happened just before graduation. Just in time for Steve to look like death warmed over in the pictures everyone was sure to take. Two hours before the ceremony Steve found himself sitting on the closed toilet seat in the Byers bathroom as Nancy dug through her make-up bag to find something that matched his skin tone. He held an ice bag pressed to his eye, humming in response when Nancy explained it would help the swelling that's still present and would help her cover the bruises better. Johnathon sat a smoothie that Joyce had made him on the counter, smiling slightly as he left the room. Steve hated the pitying look on his face, but he hasn't said a word to anyone since he left the hospital and he wasn't breaking his vow of silence now.

Besides, he found the last of the coke stash Billy had hid that morning and he didn't trust the things that might come out of his mouth this high.

"The bruises around your nose are starting to yellow out," Nancy said, dotting his face with foundation as he stared over her shoulder. Steve nodded his head, letting her move him around as need be. He hadn't wanted to do this; the whole school knew he and Billy had gotten into another fight, what was the point of covering it up now? But his mom had looked so disappointed about him ruining pictures that he had reluctantly agreed to Nancy's offer to try to cover some of the damage. "And it looks like you can open your eye more today, so that's good, right?"

Steve hissed as she pressed the sponge into a tender spot across his cheekbone, catching the small cut from where he hit the edge of the kitchen island on the way down. She mumbled an apology, catching his chin before he could move his head away. Nancy met his eyes, a look of distress on her face. She'd been looking at him like that for a while now, ever since that night at the skating rink when Billy had caught him getting high in the bathroom. She had to know he was high now, her blue eyes wide as she studied his face. He could feel her disappointment rolling off of her in waves and he couldn't blame her for it. Nancy opened and closed her mouth a few times before sighing, continuing to blend the make-up over his bruises.

"Has anyone been keeping you posted on what's going on with Billy?" She finally said quietly and Steve's head snapped up so quickly it sent a stab of pain through his bad shoulder. He shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Nancy smiled sadly before digging further into her bag. Her voice was light and airy as she continued on. "I'm not sure how, but Hopper pulled some strings; talked the DA and judge into not pressing criminal charges, told them he needed help. That something's broken in him and that he needs psychological help, not prison. I think he told him something about Billy's home life because they agreed. Told him that if he spent 14 days in a psych ward and continued to meet with a psychiatrist and did whatever they told him, they'd drop the assault charges against him. And Billy agreed. Or, maybe Hop didn't give him a choice... Anyway, Hop's been kind of standing in as his guardian since his dad refused to. Apparently his dad said he didn't raise his kid to be weak. Hop told him he didn't know what weak was. I heard Max's mom has been working with the doctor's too and that Billy's dad's pissed. I'm not sure what he's going to do when he gets out; I wouldn't want to go back to that house if I could help it."

Steve swallowed thickly, letting his eyes fall shut as his heart hammered in his chest. He couldn't tell if it was the drugs or true anxiety, the thought that this was all going to blow up in Billy's face. Nancy was still speaking lightly above him, brushing his hair out of the way to get the bruises at his temple.

"Apparently they diagnosed him with Intermittent Explosive Disorder, which is almost ironic. He's an IED waiting to explode," she whispered, her cold fingertips ghosting over his broken face while the other hand gripped his upper arm. "It makes since; all the times he just loses control and gets angry. It's not just because he's an asshole."

Steve grimaced, but Nancy kept talking. "I know things ended poorly between you two, Steve. And I know you're hurting. But...Billy wasn't right for you. I wasn't either. You'll find someone someday. Someone who isn't bullshit. Billy and I were bullshit."

"The only thing in common between our relationship and mine and Billy's is me. So who's really bullshit, Nance?" He mumbled, pushing his way past her and out of the bathroom, ignoring the way she called his name.

***  
There had always been an agreement between Steve and his dad that he'd leave for Chicago soon after graduation. They had already gotten him a small apartment in the city, ready for him to show up. His dad had already pulled some strings to get him a job. What he hadn't realized would be a part of the plan was a stint in rehab.

The night after graduation, Hopper and Joyce came to the Harrington's to have a discussion about what had happened to Steve. He sat quietly in a chair in the corner, not listening as the chief told his parents about the drinking and the coke and the pills. His body was thrumming with energy from the pill he had crushed and put up his nose that afternoon, Billy's drug dealer giving him an amused smirk when he showed up by himself looking like death warmed over.

Joyce explained about the volatile relationship he had had with Billy, how Billy had issues with handling his anger and how Steve had gotten hurt by being in proximity to the boy when he'd blow up. She kept terms broad, never letting it slip to the Harrington's that he and Billy had been more than friends. Joyce did, however, express her concern for him going to the city by himself before getting help, worried that he'd self destruct with no one knowing how bad it was.

Steve never spoke up in defense of himself, letting the adults take care of him for the first time in years. Even if he didn't want to admit it, maybe he did need help.

"Oh sweetheart," his mother had said quietly, her face contorted in pity as she crouched down in front of his chair and brushed his hair out of his face. Steve couldn't remember the last time his mom had looked this worried about him. Maybe the first time he fell out of the tree in the backyard and dislocated his shoulder? How had it taken a drug addiction to get his parent's to notice him again? "What a mess you've gotten yourself into."

"I'm sorry, Mama," Steve slurred between the wires in his teeth. He ducked his head, not wanting to see the way his mom's eyes filled with tears.

"It's okay, baby. Your father and I should have been around more. We should have noticed," Alice whispered, taking Steve's good hand in her own. "Greg, we'll need to find him the best facility in Chicago. I know it's the weekend, do you think Vanessa can make some calls?"

"I've actually already done that," Hopper said, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. "There's a couple places I think would be a good fit. Only one of them has an opening right now, though. He'd be on the waiting list for the other two." Steve zoned out as the adults talked about where they were going to send him. He vaguely heard Hopper volunteering to take Steve into the city and to check him into the facility as long as his dad was able to show up before to sign the paperwork and pay the bill.

"I'll take care of everything, Steven," Gregory Harrington said, nodding at his son from across the room. "The position at the Chicago office will be waiting for you when you get clean."

Monday morning found him sitting shotgun in his own car as Hopper drove, Johnathon following closely behind in the truck. With his shoulder still healing, Hopper said he didn't want him driving by himself. They both knew it was because they were worried he'd take off, running before they could force him to help himself.

They arrived at the apartment first, Hopper and Johnathon throwing themselves onto the new couch while Steve locked himself in his new room. He broke it in by doing a line on the top of the new IKEA dresser his dad had had delivered. If he was going to rehab tomorrow, he didn't see a reason to stop the drugs until he absolutely had to.

His jaw killed, the wires had been tightened that morning before they left. Hopper had an envelope full of his records, an appointment card for the doctor who would take over his care paper clipped to the front. The man had spent all Sunday making arrangements with Lake Shore Commons, Mr. Harrington's credit card number on a slip of paper on the counter to hold his spot. Hopper had made call after call to doctors and therapists, doing all the work his parents should have. Steve had resumed his vow of silence, but he hoped the man knew how much he appreciated it.

Tuesday morning, Hopper drove Steve to Lake Shore Common Rehabilitation, a mansion like home at the end of a long drive way overlooking Lake Michigan. He had done one last bump that morning before Jonathon found him and flushed his stash down the toilet . The boy had remained at the new apartment, unpacking the little Steve had brought with him from home and searching through everything to make sure he didn't have another stash hid someplace. Steve had just wanted one last chance to erase Billy from his mind.

His official admission diagnosis was substance abuse the admission counselor had explained as he strapped an ID bracelet to his wrist. But Hopper had done his research, knowing Lakeshore Commons would have the best therapists to help him work out all of his bullshit that had lead to the addiction in the first place. He just had to get through the withdrawal first.

"We'll keep your belongings locked up while you're in the detox ward," the admission counselor explained as a man in white took the bag he had brought with him. "You'll be in our detox ward until everything is out of your system. This could take anywhere from a few days to a week. When was the last time you used, Steve?" When he didn't answer the woman turned her attention to Hopper.

"This morning," Hopper answered for him. "He snuck into the bathroom and got high right before we left for here."

"Well then," the woman said, and Steve could hear her trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "We'll just have to work with what we have here. Once you complete detox, we'll move you to a room in the house and get your schedule set up. Now, we just need your signature on this form. It's stating that you are checking yourself in to our facility with your father listed as your guardian. He was here yesterday to sign all the other paperwork. By checking in, you are agreeing to remain here until a medical professional sees fit." Steve hesitated, glancing at Hopper who nodded at him.

"I'll take care of Billy when he gets out, you work on you here. Got it, kid?" Hopper had asked, his large hand squeezing Steve's good shoulder as he held the pen in his hand, hovering over the signature line on the admission paper work. With a nod, he signed his name, following the counselor through the locked door without another look.

****  
The few times he had tried to quit by himself, either out of frustration or because Billy's didn't have time to go get him more, Steve had thought withdrawal was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Which, considering he survived the Upside Down twice, was pretty ironic.

But sitting in a locked room with a blanket wrapped around his sweaty body as it felt like thousands of bugs were crawling over him, Steve was positive that withdrawal was the worst thing that could happen. Dry heaving through a wired jaw was excruciating and he trembled so hard that his shoulder throbbed. They had put him in a different sling that had a strap that wrapped around his torso to keep it as stabilized as possible, but it still hurt. The doctor had started an IV with fluids after the second day when he couldn't keep anything down, a sitter assigned to his room to keep him from pulling it our or hurting himself. Every time he was almost asleep, a nurse would come in to check his vitals and wake him up again.

The whole detox processes was horrible, and once he started crying on Wednesday, he didn't stop until the following week. Hallucinations, worse ones than he ever experienced on the coke, showed him his worst nightmares days after days; being trapped in the Upside Down, the Mind-Flayer or the Demodogs killing those he loved, Billy dying at Neil's hand, himself dying at Billy's. Over and over on a repeat, leading to more dry heaves leading to more pain.

Steve begged, pleaded for a hit, just a little something to stop the pain. The sitter would watch him sadly, ignoring his cries as he paced the room when he was strong enough to stand. Other times he would lay curled in a ball on a mattress covered in rubber sheets, rocking back and forth.

Finally on the eighth day, his mind started to clear. He could breath without pain, it didn't feel like he was covered with bugs. He felt like maybe he was in control for the first time in a long time.

That was when the meetings started. Narcotics Anonymous meetings held with the other patient's. Meetings individually with a therapist. Group therapy with other boy's on his floor. Family therapy where his parent's came and tried to explain why he had spent so much of his childhood alone. Yoga and meditation and fitness classes teaching them how to find something else to deal with their anxieties rather than filling themselves with drugs. Meetings with social workers, trying to help them all get back on their feet when they were ready for the "outside" world.

Steve felt like he'd never talked so much in his life than he did the first few weeks at Lake Shore Commons. But every night before he fell asleep, he thought of Billy and how he'd do anything to do this all again. Better this time.

***  
On day 21, exactly one week later than they told him, Billy walked out of the psych ward with his head ducked. Dressed in borrowed scrubs since the clothes he had came in with were caked in Steve's blood, he carried a paper bag with three bottles of pills and a schedule for meeting with his therapist. His head felt full of cotton, his mouth just as dry. Hopper and Susan stood just outside the locked double doors, small smiles on their face as they watched him approach.

"I'm proud of you, kid," Hopper said, squeezing Billy's shoulder as he stood in front of the two.

"Hi, sweetheart," Susan said gently, not touching Billy as if all the times he had yelled at her had finally sunk in.

"Hi Suz," he said back just as quietly, trying to match the small smile she gave him but it came out more of grimace. Billy swallowed a few times before looking between Hopper and Susan. "Am I really going back there?" He didn't have to explain, they were all anxious about Billy going back to his dad's house.

"Hopefully it's just temporary," Hopper answered. "Your father and I have had a talk. That man lays a hand on you and he's gone, okay? And you know you're always welcome at Joyce's and my place if you need a break."

"It will be better this time, honey," Susan said, trying to plaster a smile on her face that didn't meet her eyes. Billy could tell she didn't believe it, but he had no place else to go. He had no money for a place of his own and it's not like the Harrington's were going to take him back after what he did.

"I got you an interview at Bradley's Big Buy. Robert owes me a favor. It'll mostly be stocking shelves, bagging groceries, maybe running the register if they need it. It's nothing exciting, but you'll have some kind of income coming in," Hopper told him, pulling out a card with a time for an interview the next day. "I know you'd probably rather be working at the garage, but lets make sure you're used to your meds before we have you using heavy equipment," the man said with wink. Billy just nodded, taking the card.

"Thank you, sir." Susan flinched next to him, but didn't say anything.

"Don't 'sir' me, kid," Hopper said with a sigh. "Not anymore. You're one of mine now, too. Just like Steve. Now, I'll let you and Susan go on home. The Camaro is already back at your house, but again take it easy for a couple days, okay? Joyce is planning family dinner Friday night, we'd love to see you there but I understand if it's too much too soon. But if you need anything. I mean anything, let Joyce and I know, okay?"

"Yes s-," he stopped, biting his tongue to keep in the word sir. "I mean, sure. I will." If anyone else could tell that was a lie, no one mentioned it. They climbed into Susan's crappy old car, Billy letting his head fall back against the seat as she pulled out of the parking lot.

"Max will be so glad you're home," the redhead said cheerfully. "She's been worried about you. She wanted to come visit, but I figured you wouldn't want her to see you like that." Billy grunted, turning his head to look out the passenger side window. "I had Neil put the lock back on your door. And I found a nice little end table with a drawer for your room. Figured you be more comfortable keeping you medicine in there rather than the bathroom we all use."

"Thanks," Billy said glancing at her before staring straight ahead.

"I was going to get you a pill box, but I wasn't sure if everything was just once a day, or multiple times. Or if you'd even want a pill box. We can stop and get you one if you want." Susan rambled nervously. He understood where Max got it from.

"The, uh... The one is three times a day," Billy said quietly, staring down at the bag in his lap. "And another is twice and then when I need it. It's...It's kind of a lot. I don't want a pill box like an 80 year old, though."

"We can look at everything and come up with a schedule tonight," Susan said, patting his leg and giving him a bright smile. "And you'd be the coolest 80 year old ever, Billy." He snorted shaking his head as he looked out the window. "I know you don't want to be coming back home, honey. And I wish things had worked out better with you and Steve. But this is where we are and we'll just have to make the best of it."

"Yeah, I guess," Billy said, shrugging slightly.

"Your dad has been traveling a lot, he won't be around much. It'll be better this time." Billy nodded, not telling her he'd heard that before. "When do you follow up with Dr. Wilkins?"

"Tuesday. I'm supposed to see him every week for a while," he said, pulling the schedule out of the bag in his lap.

"Well, I hope you get what you need from those appointments," Susan said as she pulled into their driveway. Billy stared up at the house like it was a prison before moving to leave the car. Susan grabbed his arm before he could do so. "Billy... I'm proud of you. I don't think you hear that enough, but I'm so, so proud of you. And your mother would be proud of you, too." Billy swallowed down the prickle at the back of his throat, giving Susan a choked smile as he moved to go to his old bedroom.

***  
"Now, what are you going to do if you feel like using?" James, the meeting leader asked Steve on his last day at Lake Shore Commons.

"Find a meeting, call a friend, call the sponsor I don't have, find something else to do," Steve said with a sigh, his arms crossed over his chest. He flipped his 60 day chip between his fingers, watching the way it hit the light. It had been a long two months but he was finally leaving. The dark haired man sitting in front of him had helped him through the process, even going with him to the doctor to get his jaw un-wired and helping him work through the pain without the drugs. Steve really didn't think he would have made it through without James.

"Do you have a schedule of the meetings around your apartment?" James asked, flipping through a pile of papers on his clipboard.

"Yep," Steve said, pulling the folded slip of paper that had meeting times and locations printed on both sides from his pocket. "There's one on the corner like six doors down from me tonight. I'm going to go when I get back to the apartment."

"Good," James said. "Try to find a sponsor as soon as you can; it doesn't have to be tonight but don't put it off. If you need someone until you find one, you can call me, okay? You've got this, Steve. You've came so far from where you were the end of May." Steve blushed, a small smile crossing his face.

"Thanks, man. I mean it."

His dad had sent a car to pick him up, a note in the backseat stating that Greg had sent his secretary to get groceries for Steve's apartment the day before and that he had put some money in his account. 'Your mother and I will see you next weekend for our appointment with Dr. Johanson'. Apparently his mom thought it was a good idea to keep up their family therapy. Steve couldn't picture that lasting longer than a month.

The driver pulled in front of his building, holding his car door open before moving around to pull Steve's bag from the trunk.

"I've got it," Steve said as the man started to carry the bag inside. "Thanks, man. I, uh...I don't have any cash for a tip." He hadn't brought any money with him when he checked into Lake Shore Commons, not thinking it was important.

"Don't worry about it, Mr. Harrington, your father had already taken care of it," Steve rolled his eyes, giving the driver a tight lip smile. He was sure his father had paid extra to ensure the man would keep the fact that he had picked the only Harrington child up from rehab. Steve pulled his keys out of the pocket of his bag, pausing to type in the security code Hopper had left for him into the security door. The man had correctly assumed that Steve had been too out of it to remember the code when they first arrived at the apartment. He climbed the stares to the fifth floor, trying to put off being home alone as long as he could. Finally he arrived at his apartment, sticking the key into the lock.

The apartment was just as he remembered, the only difference being the shopping Vanessa had clearly done. There was a small teddy bear on the island with a balloon tied to it, the balloon exclaiming 'You Did It!' with a happy dog standing on it's hind legs below the writing. Steve was pretty sure congratulation balloons aren't for finishing rehab, but whatever. He approached the bear and picked up the card underneath it.

'Steve,

We're so proud of you! Johnathon and I can't wait to come visit next month. Just take it one day at a time. You're doing great! -Nance"

He sighed, dropping the card on the counter as he flipped through the small stack of mail, trying to think of what he should do now that he was home. The office wasn't expecting him until the following week, but Steve was contemplating going in earlier. He didn't want to give himself too much free time just in case. He paced the apartment for a while before scooping up his keys and heading to the church on the corner. Steve was one of the first people at the meeting and joined the small group of chain smokers outside. He bummed a smoke from an older man, mentally adding cigarettes and coffee to his own shopping list. If they wanted him to stop coke, they couldn't take away caffeine and nicotine. A guy had to have some kind of vice.

"You new?" The guy asked, pocketing his lighter when Steve returned it. Steve took a deep drag, nodding as he exhaled.

"Uh, yeah. I just got out of rehab today, actually," he said, his cheeks flushing.

"Welcome to the crew, man. I'm Alex," the man said, holding out his hand for Steve to shake.

"Steve," Steve said with a small smile, shaking hands with the men around him as they headed inside. The meeting progressed much as the meetings at Lake Shore Commons had, only with some more serious stories that had lead people to sobriety. Steve hadn't really known what to expect on the 'outside' and didn't really say much. At the end of the meeting, Alex approached him again.

"They set you up with a sponsor in rehab, kid?" Alex asked, handing Steve a Styrofoam cup full of coffee.

"Uh, not really. Just the number of someone we can call if we need to before we get one," Steve said with a shrug.

"Well, I'm available if you want. But don't just pick me because I'm the first person you met. Interview a few, find someone you're comfortable with. And keep coming; I hit a few meetings a week still and I've been clean for 15 years. Just don't give up, you know? I hope to see you at some of the other meetings I hit." The dark haired man nodded at Steve, giving him a small wave before leaving the church.

***  
Steve went into the office the next day after he got home and felt extremely overwhelmed at the amount of information they threw at him. The first day he spent hours sitting in orientation meetings, filling out intake paperwork, and trying to read through the binder of operating procedures his new boss had handed him. His "hiring class" had about fifteen people in it, but four of them were at least around his age. As they sat in the conference room going over everything, the hiring coordinator started handing out cards for the new hires to go take their required drug test.

"Um, I didn't get one?" Steve asked as the class started shuffling out of the room to be showed to their new desks. The counselor gave him a smile as she flipped through her paperwork.

"Harrington, right?" She asked, running her finger down a list.

"Yeah. Steve," he answered.

"It looks like your dad submitted a test you had taken last week to me this morning? For Dr. Howard?" She said, holding up the paper that she had pulled from his file. That was the doctor at the rehab facility.

"Oh, uh yeah. I mean, I can take another one?" Steve said, shifting awkwardly.

"No need, Steve. Your dad took care of everything! As long as I have your tax forms, we're good to go from an HR standpoint. You have a good day!" Steve sighed, Billy's words once again ringing through his mind. 'Oh, of course! Daddy will throw money at the problem until it goes away!' He ran a shaky hand over his face before slowly trudging to his new department.

The job his father had gotten him was a data entry, something he was sure was going to be mind numbing but not too complicated to figure out. Greg Harrington knew his son well. Steve spent the second half of the day listening to Lara, his new manager, explain how to use their new computer system to enter in the orders the new sale team had collected.

"This system is the top of the line; we're one of the first companies to use computer based ordering!" Lara had explain as she helped Steve set up his user name and password. Steve had just given her a strained smile, glad that he had taken that typing class in high school that Tommy had said would be a waste of time. At the end of the day, Steve swung past where he knew his dad's office was in this building. Greg spent half his time when he wasn't traveling in the Chicago office and he was there that day.

"Steven!" his dad exclaimed when he say Steve hovering in the doorway. "Come in! Come in, son." Steve sat gingerly in the chair across from his dad, lacing his hands together. "I didn't think you were starting until next week. Weren't you going to take some time to get adjusted to the new apartment?"

"I didn't want to give myself that much free time..." Steve said, meeting his dad's eyes and looking away. Greg sighed and nodded.

"No, no, that makes sense. I'd hate to pay that much money only for you to turn around and go back to the way your were after a day." Steve flinched, not verbalizing how much that hurt. He figured he could add it to the list of shit they had to get through with Dr. Johanson.

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, I have the meeting schedule and stuff. I just...Didn't want to spend my time sitting around home."

"Well, I'm glad you came in. How was the first day? How are you liking Lara? She's good, right?" Greg asked, and Steve had a horrified thought of 'what if Lara was one of the women he'd cheated on mom with?' before clearing his thoughts.

"Um, yeah, she's nice. We were with HR most of the morning so I haven't spent much time with her." Greg nodded. "Um, Stephanie? With HR? She said you turned in some drug test from last week for me. How did you even know I had one last week?"

"When you signed yourself into Lake Shore Commons, Steven, it was with me listed as your guardian. I was the one the doctor's talked with and made decisions while you were...incapacitated."

"You mean detoxing," Steve mumbled, not missing the way his dad's eyes shot to the door that still stood ajar.

"Yes. Dr. Howard said they test everyone, especially before when a patient is coming up on release. Since we already had the results of that test, it seemed wasteful to have the company pay for another drug test. And to put you through the stress of having to take another."

"I could have passed it," Steve said, his eyes flashing as he glared at his father.

"I know. But what's done is done. Now, what are your plans for dinner? I was planning on staying in the city overnight, we can go get some of that pizza you like?" Greg asked, turning back to the paperwork he was working on.

"Um, will we be done by 8?" Steve asked, staring down at his hands. "I wanted to go to a meeting." Greg paused, glancing up at his son before plastering a strained smile on his face.

"Sure, I'm almost finished here. I'll have you back to your apartment in plenty of time."

So that's how Steve's first few weeks out of rehab went. He spent his time bouncing between working overtime at the office, going to different NA meetings in the neighborhood, and trying to pick out some kind of hobby. He tried reading, but he never was able to get through a full book without the words and meaning getting all jumbled. He tried drawing, buying a sketch pad to take to the park and tried to draw the people passing by. Steve definitely didn't have Billy's talent.

He slowly picked up running, never having done it just because before. It had always been for baseball and basketball and it was always a race to finish before everyone else. Steve started slowly, running a mile down the river path before turning around and running back. Every time he felt like he had too much time on his hands or that he was itching to find a fix, he'd go for a run until he was running more than 5 miles at a time. He found a cookbook at the bookstore down the road from his place that looked interesting and started working his way page by page through the book. The first few attempts were horrible, but after some practice the food was actually edible. For the first time in a long time Steve felt like he maybe had his life together.

***

Billy was trying to be better.

He took his meds, rolling his eyes at the timer on his watch when it went off to remind him to take his Lithium. He kept a bottle in his pocket filled with the capsules and emergency Xanax in case he felt a melt down coming on. He ended up seeing Dr. Wilkins twice a week, trying to say just enough without saying too much.

He worked the evening shift at the grocery store, stocking shelves and helping little old ladies reach things on the top shelf. He started working at Old Man Garrett's garage outside of town two days a week during the day, changing oil and fixing flats. Every once in a while he got to be the muscle as Garrett tried to pry the bumper off an old car.

He drove Max around, playing taxi as he shuttled her to the arcade and the pool and the Wheeler's house for D&D campaigns. He spent time sitting at the edge of the quarry or traipsing through the woods. Anything to keep him out of his dad's house and out of trouble.

Billy tried; he really did. But things still didn't feel better.

First, he offered to give the Party a ride home from the pool one day when an unexpected thunderstorm popped up. He was already there to get Max, and the kids looked so pathetic trying to make themselves small so all six of them could fit under the overhang. Billy hadn't talked to any of the kids other than Max since the day before he ended up in the hospital. Lucas, always the most polite of the group, had waved awkwardly at Billy when he had been grocery shopping with his mom. But that's the closest any of them have came to acknowledging him. He couldn't really blame them; Steve had always been their favorite.

"Hey Dweebs," he called as he pulled up to the curve, cracking his window down just enough so they could hear him but not enough to get the interior of the Camaro wet. "You want a ride?" Max was already sprinting the short distance through the ran to get in the car, not glancing back to see if anyone was following her.

"Uh, no thanks, Billy," Will called quietly, glancing at Mike who nodded.

"I'd rather walk," Mike sneered, squinting at Billy.

"Or we'll wait until Jonathon gets off work. I already called the store," Will said a little gentler than his friend.

"What, seriously?" Billy asked incredulously. "It's pouring and I'm here. Come on, I'll give you a ride." Lucas took a hesitant step towards the car before Dustin threw a hand out to catch him across the chest.

"We don't want anything from you, Billy. You ruined everything. You're the reason we don't have Steve anymore and all you're going to do is get us killed, too!" Billy flinched, his vision dropping to where Max was clutching his leg tightly. As if that would have been enough to stop him from snapping before. "Just go away, Billy! No one wants you here!" Billy swallowed thickly, trying to hide how much that stung. It had taken a while to get the kids to trust him in the first place. Clearly all that work had been for nothing after what happened between him and Steve.

"Fine," he said quietly. "Don't get struck by lighting." He hit the button to roll the window up before the Party could respond. Once they arrived back at the house, Billy locked himself in his room before Max could talk to him.

Then there were the psychiatrist appointments. They sounded promising when he'd been in the hospital, even if he wasn't overly interested in sharing. But now that he was seeing Dr. Wilkins as an outpatient, Billy was trying to take advantage of them. It was clear, however, that Dr. Wilkins was quickly losing interest.

Billy sat on the small couch across from Dr. Wilkins as the doctor flipped through his chart. He anxiously drummed his fingers on his thighs, staring out the window while waiting for the doctor to talk to him.

"Have you been taking your meds?" Wilkins finally asked, his pen hovering above his prescription pad on as he stared at Billy.

"Uh, yeah," Billy said, clearing his throat as he turned to look at the man. "Haven't missed a dose."

"Good, good," he said, ducking his head to fill out the refill prescription. "Have you needed to take many of the 'as needed' Xanax?"

"Some, but not every day," Billy answered, chewing on this thumb nail.

"Good," Wilkins answered, pushing the prescriptions across his desk to Billy. Billy glanced at the three slips of paper, frowning as he held up the script for the antipsychotic he was on.

"This is a higher dose of risperidone than I've been on..." he pointed out, raising a brow.

"Yes, I think it's best if we increase that for now." Wilkins said as he steepled his hands in front of him.

"But you haven't even asked me anything today other than if I've been taking my meds. And I have. And when I was here on Thursday, you barely even listened when you did ask me anything. I mean I asked for advice on how to deal with the kids all being fucking terrified of me still and all you said was "I'm sorry you have to deal with that," Billy fumed, crossing his arms.

"When you left the hospital, we talked about how what we sent you home on might not be you final dose. I feel like it's best to increase the dose right now." Billy rolled his eyes but nodded, staring down at his lap. He kept his answers short as Wilkins lead him through the visit. Finally the doctor glanced at his watch.

"We're out of time for the day, Billy. Now I'm going to stretch out your visits moving forward. I don't think we need to see each other as frequently. We'll keep our Tuesday time slot, but I'll see you in two weeks instead, okay?"

"Wait," Billy said wrinkling his brow. "We're going from twice a week to every other week just like that? I mean you just said you thought I needed my meds upped. Is that a good idea?"

"Trust me, Billy. This is all going to plan. And you can always call if you have any concerns." Billy grunted, pushing himself off the couch to stomp out of the room.

And that was the first of a lot of questionable decisions made by Dr. Wilkins. Even after decreasing the frequency of their visits, the psychiatrist started canceling visits with no availability to reschedule. It got to the point that Billy was lucky to see him more than once a month.

Billy started skipping doses of his meds here and there in an attempt to make a stock pile. If Dr. Wilkins couldn't be depended on, Billy figured taking a smaller dose longer was better than nothing at all.

On top of everything else, Billy was stuck living in his Dad's house again. Neil had taken Hopper's words to heart and hadn't put a hand on him ever since he was released from the hospital in June. But by mid-July the name calling and yelling had started up again.

"If you can drag your faggot ass away from the mirror for longer than five minutes, you can go mow the lawn," Neil growled as he paused in Billy's doorway.

Billy had been trying to put his hair up to combat the heat pounding down on the tiny house. Billy froze, closing his eyes as he tried to pretend his father wasn't there.

"If you're going to be living in my house again, you're going to show me some fucking respect and answer me." Neil said through clinched teeth, taking a swig from his beer.

"Yes, sir," Billy said quietly, turning around and locking his gaze just to the left of his father's ear.

"Never should have let you come back here," Neil sneered as Billy stooped to pull on his shoes. "Should have let you rot after what you did to that boy, made you take some fucking responsibility. Instead of some pussy hand holding therapy shit like the faggot you are. Jesus."

"Yes, sir," Billy said again, standing tall as he waited for Neil to either leave the room or hit him. Finally the man left and Billy deflated. He pulled a pill bottle out of his night stand, chewing on a Xanax as he left the house to starting mowing.

***

The second week of August, Billy slowly pulled into the cul de sac outside the Wheeler's house. Byers was loading a few bags into the trunk of his old junker while Nancy carried a picnic basket from the front door.

"Billy," Johnathon said, a look of surprise on his face as Billy climbed out of his car and pushed his sunglasses up on his head.

"Byers, Wheeler," he said with a nod, shifting from foot to foot.

"How are you Billy?" Nancy asked gently, handing off the basket to Jonathon as she lifted her hand to block the sun from her eyes.

"I uh...I'm fine," he stuttered, hating how unsure his voice sounded. "Uh...Max told me you guys were going to see Steve..." The couple shared a look before Johnathon responded.

"Yeah, we were going to go and stay with him for a week before we both leave for New York for school. Nance got into Sarah Lawrence and I'm headed to NYU." Nancy beamed next to him and Billy forced a smile on his face.

"That's...That's awesome. Congrats." Billy fidgeted, sticking his hand in his jeans pocket and wrapping a fist around the folded letter.

"Thanks, Billy!" Nancy said, giving him a small smile. "But was there something you needed from us?"

"I, uh... Yeah. I needed to ask a favor..." Billy pulled the letter out of his pocket, sighing when he saw he had crumpled it slightly. He tried to straighten it before glancing up. "I...No one will give me Steve's new number or his address. And I get it. I ruined his life. But...I wrote him a letter when I was in the...hospital...apologizing for everything. And I just wondered if you'd give it to him for me..."

Nancy and Jonathon shared another look and Jonathon turned away as he went back to loading the car. Nancy opened and closed her mouth a few times as if she didn't know how to respond before finally sighing.

"Billy...I know you're trying to make amends and get better. And Hopper and Joyce have been saying you've came a long way. But..."

"But you won't give him the letter," Billy finished for her.

"It's not that I don't want to, Billy. It's just...I just don't think Steve's in the best place for this yet. And his well being is my number one priority right now. You understand, right?" Nancy gave him a strained smile. "I'm going to go say bye to Mom, Jonathon. We can head out soon."

Jonathon nodded and watched as Nancy went back in the house. Billy sighed, hanging his head as he turned to go back to the Camaro. He knew it had been a long shot but he had had to try. He was almost back to the car when Johnathon called him back.

"Billy, wait," the boy said, throwing a glance back at the house to make sure that Nancy couldn't hear them. "She's right that Steve's still trying to keep his shit together and this might not be a good idea. But I also feel like it should be his decision if he wants to read your letter or not. I'll take it with me. If he thinks he can handle it, I'll give it to him. If he doesn't think he can do it, I'll bring it back to you. Okay?"

Billy nodded, chewing on his lip as he handed over the note. "Thanks man. I really mean it." Billy started walking back to the Camaro when Johnathon stopped him again.

"Billy, are you okay?" Johnathon, and when Billy turned around the boy was right behind him. "I mean, things are getting better, right?"

"Sure, Byers. Living back with my abusive old man with no friends and a dead end job. Things are great. Have a good trip." Johnathon stepped back onto the curve as Billy pulled out of the neighborhood. He let out a sigh as he headed back into the Wheeler's house to call Hopper. Johnathon figured they'd all feel better if they knew someone was keeping an eye on the blonde.

***  
Steve didn't have enough vacation time built up to take the entire week off that Nancy and Johnathon were staying with him, but he went in early so he could spend time with them late in the afternoon. They went to the Navy Pier to watch the fireworks and ride the Ferris wheel. They ate so much deep dish pizza that Steve literally felt like he was going to puke. They saw a local band play in the park and Steve laughed as Nancy forced Johnathon dance with her.

It was nice having them around. Steve was lonely in Chicago by himself and loved having something familiar to lose himself in.The pang of jealousy he used to feel every time he saw the couple together no longer hurt and now he was just happy they had found each other. Their week together was far too short and Saturday arrived faster than Steve had hoped.

After spending the day shopping and exploring the city, Nancy had headed to bed early. As she shut the door to the spare bedroom, Steve scooped up his pack of cigarettes and waved them at Johnathon as he gestured towards the balcony. Johnathon smiled as he followed Steve outside.

"How's it feel to be sober?" Johnathon asked as he fell heavily into one of the patio chairs and lit his own cigarette.

"It's weird. I mean I've been drinking since I was thirteen and even before the coke I was smoking weed on a semi-regular basis. Now it's like I really have to deal with all my shit which isn't fun. But at the same time I know I'm not going to do something stupid and that I'm 100% in control. There's like three different churches in a five block radius that have NA meetings and there's a place right next to my office that has meetings during the day so if shit gets rough I have options. I should be getting my 90 day chip next week."

"That's awesome, man. You've been doing so great. We're all proud of you. Dustin was pissed that Nancy and I wouldn't bring him with us. He's dying to see you."

"Yeah, I know," Steve said with a chuckle as he exhaled. "We talk on the phone at least three times a week. He's a good kid." The two boys sat quietly, listening to the cars drive by and enjoying the slight breeze. Johnathon fidgeting in his chair a few times before sighing.

"Hey, man. I've got to tell you something. And if you can't deal, tell me and I'll stop. But I made a promise I'd try and I hadn't figured out how to say something this whole week about it." Steve furrowed his brow, stubbing out his cigarette and shaking another out of the pack.

"Okay...shoot man. What's up."

"Billy stopped us before we left Hawkins on Sunday. Said he wanted to ask me and Nance a favor. He...he wrote you a letter when he was in the psych ward. He said it was to apologize. And obviously none of us have wanted to give him your new contact info so he's just been holding on to it. Billy asked if Nancy and I would give it to you."

"Okay..." Steve said again, studying Johnathon's face.

"Nance told him no, that she wasn't sure you'd be ready for that and just tried to leave it at that. But Jesus, he looks so worn down. You know he moved back in with his dad when he got out of the hospital?"

"Yeah, Dustin mentioned it. He said Hopper threatened his dad, though."

"Oh yeah, I don't think his dad's laid a hand on him or anything. But I'm sure it's not a happy place to live. Anyway, he just looked so tired that I told him I'd ask you if you wanted to read it. I wouldn't just force this on you, man. I know how things ended. But I figured it should be your choice. If you don't want it or your not ready, I told Billy I'd give it back to him."

Steve didn't say anything for quite awhile. The only sound was the steady honk of horns from a traffic jam a few blocks over and the steady inhale and exhale from Steve's cigarette.

"I...I'll take it," the brunette finally said as he stubbed out his butt. "I'm not going to read it yet, but I want it to be here when I'm ready, you know?"

"Yeah, man. I get it. And if you need to talk to someone when you read it, I'm here."

Steve nodded, giving Johnathon a tight smile as he took the folded letter from the boys out stretched hand. Later, when Steve had locked himself away in his own bedroom, he stared down at his name in Billy's blocky hand writing. He held the letter in his hands for several moments before tucking it in his bedside table along with his 60 day chip.

***  
By October, Billy felt like he was going out of his mind. Dr. Wilkins had closed his practice, passing Billy's case back over to the hospital to be reassigned. He had received a couple letters in the mail and a handful of phone calls to get him set up with someone but he never called back.

He was really only taking his Lithium. He had a pretty good stash of Xanax built up in his room and he tried not to think of it on his real bad days.

Any people that Billy had graduated with that he could even pretend to be friends with had left as fall began and Billy couldn't bring himself to party with the current senior class. His days consisted of driving Max to school, working at the shop two days a week, picking Max up from school and taking her to the arcade, working at the grocery. He didn't really talk to anyone besides the rare customer who asked him where to find things. Hopper would occasionally stop by during his shift to check on him and Billy would always plaster on a fake smile and promise the man he was fine.

Living with his father was really wearing on Billy. Neil was starting to get more vocal any time he was home. He still never put a hand on Billy, Hopper's threat still ringing clear. But that didn't stop him from cornering Billy as he told him everything he thought was wrong with him.

It was just a lot to deal with so that by the time Billy's 18th birthday rolled around, he was done.

It had been years since he'd gotten something for his birthday before Susan moved in, and even then it was never anything too exiting. She had bought him his leather jacket when he turned 16 and his father had thrown a fit about it. Either way, he wasn't really expecting anything when he woke up on the 18th. That didn't mean it didn't hurt when he woke up to nothing.

Susan whispered a quick 'happy birthday, sweetheart' as she put a plate of pancakes in front of him, but no one else acknowledged the day at the table. Max didn't say anything to him in the car on the way to school, nor did anyone at the garage during his shift. He had been given the day off at the grocery so he spent most of the day at home in his room trying to avoid Neil.

Billy had some crazy thought in the back of his head that maybe Steve would call. He knew Johnathon had given Steve his letter, but he had never heard from Steve one way or the other. He knew it was crazy to think that a letter could make up for what had happened, but if there was one thing Billy wanted for his birthday it was for Steve to call.

He had been laying on his bed feeling sorry for himself for quite a while when Neil came home from work. From where he was in the back of his house he could already tell that the man was drunk. Billy was just crawling off his bed to lock his bedroom door when the door swung open.

"Why aren't you at work?" Neil sneered, squinting his eyes at Billy.

"They gave me the night off for my birthday," Billy said quietly, taking a step backwards.

"Oh, like it's some special fucking day?" Neil said while rolling his eyes. "You should be working so you can afford to get your ass out of my house. You hear me boy?" Billy nodded.

The slap came out of no where and it had been so long since his dad had actually hit him that he wasn't braced for it like he normally was. He stumbled back, his hand going to his cheek that burned red.

"When I ask you a question, I expect to hear your answer, boy. You hear me?"

"Yes, sir," Billy said, locking his gaze to the left of his dad's head like he always did.

"Good. No get your ass out of my house. I don't want to see you today." Billy nodded, stumbling away. He turned to grab a pill bottle and his pocket knife from his night stand before grabbing his keys and jacket. He didn't look back as he slammed the door.

***

Hopper was supposed to be staying at Joyce's that night. Jane already had a room set up at the Byers' and the two of them spent at least a few nights a week with their new blended family. Jane was already at the house and Hopper was going to be joining them for movie night before the kids had to go to bed. He just had to do one last drive by check before he could join them.

He pulled into the drive leading up to the quarry hoping against hope that no one would be there. Predictably, the headlights of the truck illuminated a car parked near the woods. Hopper sighed when he realized it was the Camaro and that Billy was no where to be found. Hopper slid out of the truck with his flashlight on.

"Billy?" He called, moving closer to the car and shining the light towards the tree. It had rained the day before and he could see Billy's boot prints leading into the woods. "Why do these kids never learn," Hopper mumbled, remembering last winter when Billy had been bit by a straggler Demo-dog.

Hopper followed the boot prints through the woods, one hand on his gun while the other shown the flashlight ahead of him.

"Billy? Come on, kid. You shouldn't be out here," he called again, his eyes scanning the woods around him. He froze when his light caught on something ahead of him and his stomach sunk. "Fuck, Billy!"

The chief rushed ahead to where Billy was slunk awkwardly against a log. The blonde was covered in blood and the flashlight beam caught the pocket knife that had fallen to the ground next to Billy's right hand. When he got closer, he could see the deep vertical cuts on each of the boy's arms that were clearly self inflicted. A pill bottle with its cap off and it's contents spilled on the ground sat near the knife.

"Damnit, kid," Hopper whispered, already working to get his outer shirt off to use as a bandage. He ripped it in half, pocketing his badge before wrapping a strip around Billy's right wrist and tying it tightly. Where he was holding Billy's wrist in his hand he could still feel a faint pulse. "Come on kid, stay with me."

After wrapping Billy's left wrist, Hopper scooped up the pill bottle and shoved it in his pocket in case they needed to know at the hospital. He picked up Billy's discarded jacket and wrapped it around the boy before trying to figure out how to carry the kid out of the woods. Billy was as far from dainty as you could get and Hopper only hoped he had the strength too get him out of the woods.

It was a process as Hopper half carried, half drug Billy out of the woods to the truck. He was struggling to breath as he got Billy into the passenger seat. He ran around to the driver side, throwing the truck into drive. As he peeled out of the quarry he pulled the radio to him.

"This is Hopper, anyone copy?"

"Powell here, Chief. Over."

"I need you to call ahead to the hospital that I'm bringing in an attempted suicide. Kid needs blood. I don't know his blood type, so tell em to get some universal blood ready. I'm about five minutes out. Over."

"Will do, Chief. Over."

Billy's head lulled as Hopper spread down the road. He reached out to grab the blonde's wrist, keeping his fingers pressed to his pulse point and trying to ignore how cold his skin was.

"Stay with me kid. Just stay with me," he mumbled, the blue and red lights illuminating the path to the hospital.

The emergency room staff were waiting for them in the ER bay when he pulled in, a gurney waiting to pull Billy onto. Hopper watched helplessly as they hauled Billy out of the truck and into the hospital. The team was yelling directions as they pushed him away. Hopper quickly pulled the truck into a parking spot before running back inside.

A doctor was trying to stop the bleeding as one nurse attached leads for a heart monitor to Billy's chest and another started an IV to replace the blood he had lost.

"Do you know how long he was out there?" The doctor asked, glancing up at Hopper before going back to work on the boy's mutilated wrists.

"I have no idea, I just found him on my last rounds for the night. He has a psych history but as far as I know he's been taking his meds and seeing his psychiatrist and all that stuff. I didn't know he was to this point..." Hopper stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out the empty bottle. "I found this by him, but I don't know if he took any of them. It looked like he spilled a good bunch of them."

The nurse took the bottle from him, stating they'd run a toxicology screen but that it would be difficult since he was supposed to be taking the pills daily.

"I think you found him just in time, Chief," Dr. Davis said as he started to stitch the cuts in Billy's wrists. "We'll get him stitched up and move him upstairs. He'll need a couple more units of blood."

Hopper nodded his understanding, glancing at the door. "Has anyone called his family, or do you need me to?"

"We've got someone trying to get a hold of them now. We'll take care of him if there's someplace you need to be." Dr. Davis answered as he finished with Billy's left arm and moved to his right. A nurse followed close behind wrapping bandages around his wrist.

"I'll stick around," Hopper said, rubbing a tired hand down his face. "I've just got to make a call. Let me know when you're ready to move him upstairs." Hopper found a pay phone down the hall from the triage room where they were working on Billy. He sighed heavily as he fed a few quarters into it. The phone rang twice before a frantic voice answered.

"Hello?" Joyce said, her voice slightly shrill.

"It's me," he said calmly, smiling slightly at the sigh of relief Joyce let out.

"Where are you? Hop you were supposed to be here an hour ago!"

"I'm down at Hawkins General. I'm fine!" he interrupted as Joyce immediately went into panic mode. "I'm fine, promise. It's Billy. Poor kid tried to kill himself out at the quarry tonight. I found him on my patrol."

"Jesus, Jim," Joyce whispered in horror. "Why? Why would he do that? Is he okay?"

"Doctor said I got him to the hospital just in time. They're getting him stitched up now." Hopper let his head fall back against the wall as he closed his eyes. "As for why, I don't know for sure. If he left a note it wasn't on him and he's been avoiding pretty much all of his friends as far as I'm aware since he got out of the psych ward. Johnathon did mention he seemed pretty down in August before he went to see Steve, but when I tried to talk to Billy he swore he was fine. I don't think we're going to know until he wakes up. I'm going to hang around a bit and wait for his dad to get here. Hospital was trying to get ahold of him now."

"Okay, let me know when you are on your way home. Will and Jane are fast asleep but I'll try to wait up." Joyce said gently.

"You don't have to do that, Joyce. I love you, okay?" Hopper returned to the triage room just as they were ready to move Billy upstairs. He walked beside the bed carrying the blonde, squeezing into the elevator as they moved to the fifth floor. The chief leaned against the wall as the orderlies carefully moved Billy from the transport gurney to his new bed.

Once he was moved to his new bed, one nurse worked to wrap his ankles and wrists in soft restraints as another set up his IV stand and connected the wires stuck onto his chest into the heart monitor next to the bed.

"Are those necessary?" Hopper asked, nodding his head to the restraints as the nurse checked the buckles before covering Billy in a blanket.

"Just standard suicide precautions," the nurse said gently, turning to meet Hopper's gaze. "On top of the blood loss we've got him pretty heavily sedated. That tends to lead to confusion and agitation when a patient wakes up which further leads to him hurting himself more. This all just to keep him safest from himself."

"What about the pill bottle I found with him? Could you tell if he took any?" The nurse furrowed her brow and flipped open the chart the ER team had sent up with Billy.

"According to the tox report we got back, no. He didn't have any Xanax in his system at all. Looks like he hadn't been taking all his meds." Hopper sighed but nodded.

"Have you gotten a hold of his folks yet?" The nurse sighed and shook her head no.

"We called his father, but when we said why we were calling he hung up. We've tried to call again but the line rings busy like he's taken the phone off the hook. There was a secondary contact in his chart that we're trying to get a hold of, but we'll keep trying his father."

"Well, thank you. If you haven't gotten ahold of his old man by morning I'll go by the house." The nurse gave him a tight smile as she adjusted Billy's blankets one last time. "My name's Jenny. Call me if he needs anything."

***  
Steve didn't get many phone calls. In fact, he wasn't sure why he even had a phone and if his parents weren't paying for it he probably would have gotten rid of it a long time ago.

That's why it took him at least three rings before he figured out what was going on when someone called him just after 3am on a Saturday morning. He stumbled out of his bed, groaning slightly when he hit his hip on the side table in the hallway that held his phone.

"He-hello," Steve shuddered out, clearing his throat as he fought to sound somewhat awake. His heart hammered in his chest as his mind ran crazy imagining the other world monster the party was calling to tell him was back.

"Is this Steve Harrington?" A young women's voice asked. Steve could here steady beeping behind her and several other voices.

"Uh, yes?" He responded, furrowing his brow.

"Mr. Harrington, I am calling from Hawkins General Hospital. I had originally tried calling it looks like your parents number but your mother provided us with your new number." Steve rolled his eyes, mentally adding 'don't give people my new number unless I say it's okay' to the list of things he needed to bring up in their family therapy sessions once his mother decided to start those up again.

"Okay...What's this about?" Steve asked, leaning his forehead against the wall as he closed his eyes.

"I'm calling about William Hargrove, Mr. Harrington. You were listed as an emergency contact in his chart." Steve's mind flew to Christmas Eve when he had taken Billy to the emergency room for a concussion. He swallowed thickly.

"What happened? Is Billy okay?"

"Mr. Hargrove attempted suicide tonight and was brought in by the chief of police. He lost a lot of blood and is in pretty bad shape, but he should be okay over time. We hadn't been able to get a hold of..." She trailed off and Steve could hear her flipping through a stack of papers he assumed must be Billy's chart. "We can't get hold of Neil Hargrove, so you were the next contact. Are you able to come in?"

Steve squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Was he able to come in? Could he go home and make sure Billy was okay? Maybe he could hit up a couple early morning meetings between Chicago and Hawkins and go make sure? Or was this just setting himself up for failure? He still hadn't been able to read the letter Billy had sent with Johnathon in August and every time he tried to talk about Billy in his NA meetings it felt like his throat was closing up.

"Mr. Harrington? Are you able to come in?"

"I'm coming from Chicago," Steve said, swallowing thickly. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

***  
There was a steady beeping somewhere in the distance that Billy was pretty sure was driving him crazy. He felt like he was floating away from his body and everything would be perfect if that beeping would just stop. He tried to roll over on his side but grunted when he realized something was wrapped around his wrist holding him still.

Billy tried to pull his hand free, a small whimper escaping his lips as a red hot pain shot up his arm. The cloud below him dipped slightly as someone sat on the edge and brushed his hair out of his eyes.

"Billy, sweetheart? Are you awake?"

He squinted one eye open and saw a woman perched on the edge of what he figured out was a hospital bed. She was backlit from the light sneaking in the door from the hallway and it caught her curly red hair just at the right angle. Her face was covered in shadow from this angle and Billy choked on a sob.

"Mom?" He whispered, and the woman's face fell as she moved out of the shadow. It wasn't his mom. It was Susan.

"Oh, honey," she whispered, taking his hand in hers. He tried to pull away as his eyes prickled with tears and realized that he was strapped to the bed. Thick white bandages covered his forearms up to his elbows and he could see tiny pinpricks of blood peaking through the fabric. A needle was stuck into the vein in the back of his right hand and a bag of blood slowly ran through the tubing into his body. He let out another sob as reality hit him. He had failed.

"No," Billy choke out, squeezing his eyes shot as hot tears ran down his cheeks.

"You're okay," Susan whispered, gently running the thumb of her free hand under each of his eyes, catching the tears as they fell. "It's going to be okay, sweetheart." Billy let out a louder sob, shaking his head as he squeezed his lips together to swallow his tears.

"I don't want to do this any more!" He breathed out, his body trembling. Susan shh'd him, gently running her hands through his curls and lightly scratching his scalp with her red painted finger nails.

"I know honey. I'm so sorry, Billy. I'm so sorry we didn't realize how bad things were. But we're going to get you help, okay? Things will get better. You're going to be okay."

"I don't want help!" Billy gasped out around another sob. "I just want it to stop. I just want to go. I want to be with my mom!" Susan shh'd him again, squeezing his hand as she tipped his head to look at her.

"I know you do, sweetheart. I know this has been hard on you. But you are so strong Billy. We'll get you back on your meds and back seeing a new psychiatrist. Someone more reliable than Dr. Wilkins. I'll help you get out of that house. You've just got to hold on, sweetheart. Your mom would want you to hold on." Susan had tears running down her own freckled face at that point and that just made Billy cry harder. He wished he could cover his face with his hands but the restraints held tight. He squeezed his eyes shot as a nurse came speeding into the room, a syringe in her hand.

"Billy, sweetheart, this is just going to help you calm down and get some rest okay? Everything's going to be okay." He tried to argue, choking on his sobs as she stuck the needle into the IV in the back of his hand. His eyes slid shut as he slowly fell back asleep.

***  
Steve stumbled out of the elevator late Saturday morning on the fifth floor of Hawkins General. He had waited to leave Chicago until he could hit an NA meeting. He still didn't have a sponsor that he could call; no one he met seemed to be a good fit but he didn't feel like he could still call James after four months. So he was first in line for the 7 o'clock meeting at the church down the road, chewing on his thumb nail as he waited.

Steve approached the nurses station slowly, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide the shaking. He didn't know what he was walking into but a part of him was dying to see Billy.

"Uh, excuse me," Steve said, sighing in relief when he realized he knew the nurse sitting behind the desk. Misty Hall sat behind the desk, writing in someone's chart.

"Stevie!" She cried out, giving him a gentle smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Um, someone called me about Billy..." Misty's smile fell and she sighed as she pushed away from the desk.

"Oh, yes. Night shift may have jumped the gun calling you, we got ahold of his stepmom early this morning." Misty came around the desk, gesturing for Steve to follow her. "This is my second week working out of the ER and on the floor and I hate to see that kid back here. Now, he's psychically going to be okay. He'll heal. Mentally...we're getting him back on all his meds and he'll spend some time at the psych ward to get everything back under control. Right now we've got him pretty sedated so he might not be totally with it. Between that and standard suicide precautions, we're having to keep him restrained to make sure he's not hurting himself." Misty paused when Steve flinched. "I know it seems like a lot, but I just want you to be prepared, okay?"

"I... Uh, yeah. I got it," Steve responded quietly.

"Just try not to upset him if you can help it, okay?" She stopped in front of room 520, her brow raised as she waited for Steve to answer.

"I'll try, Mist," he said quietly. Misty gave him a sad smile, patting his arm as she pushed him towards the door.

The lights were turned low in Billy's room, only the light behind the bed was on. A heart monitor beeped steadily along with Billy's pulse and the IV machine clicked as it delivered the blood and medicine into the patient. The white restraints blended in with the white bandages wrapped around Billy's wrists but Steve could see where they lead into the blankets.

He tried to quietly pull the chair next to the bed up closer, but flinched when it scraped along the floor. Billy jumped on the bed, his head lazily dropping to the side to tiredly blink his eyes open. The two boys stared at each other for a beat too long before Billy gasped.

"Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?" Billy rasped out, watching Steve's face.

"Yeah, it's me. Don't cream your pants," Steve answered quietly, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Billy gave him a wobbly smile before his he eyes filled with tears and he choked on a sob. "Hey! No, no. Don't cry, Bill. Please don't cry!"

"I'm s-s-so s-s-sorry I ruined everything. I always ruin everything! I ruined your life and I hurt you and everyone hates me and I deserve it! I know I deserve it!"

"Billy, shhh. It's okay. Come on, it's okay," Steve whispered, sliding his chair closer to the bed so he could grab Billy's hand. He tried not to pull against the restraints, instead intertwining their fingers together as Billy sobbed louder. "You didn't ruin everything. It's not your fault. You didn't force me to start using, okay? I did that on my own, okay? And everything else... There's a cause behind it now, right? There was something wrong with you and you didn't do it on purpose. No one hates you Billy. You didn't ruin everything."

"The kids hate me," Billy whispered, squeezing Steve's hand tightly hoping he'd never have to let go. "Dustin and Mike. My dad."

"Mike hates everyone, that doesn't mean anything. And Dustin's just protective of me, you know? He's just a kid Billy, he'll get over it. Don't let it get to you."

"I...Will you ever forgive me?" Billy whispered, locking eyes with Steve. Tears clumped his eyes lashes together and Steve had never seen them look so blue. He rubbed his thumb over the back of Billy's hand, squeezing slightly.

"I've already forgiven you. I promise, I forgave you along time ago, Billy."

"I love you," Billy whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. "I love you so much, just please take me back." Steve sat frozen for a few moments, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to think of what to say. When he finally glanced up, Billy was studying his face.

"I love you, too. I really do... But I'm...I'm still trying to figure my shit out, Billy. I'm literally either working over time or in NA meetings or running a ridiculous amount just to keep my mind off of the fact that I always want to use. Supposedly, according to the old timers at NA, it gets easier over time, but right now I need to focus on that. And you need to focus on getting better. Jesus, do you know how terrified I was when the hospital called to say you tried to kill yourself?"

"I'm sorry," Billy whispered, squeezing his eyes shut as he worked his right hand into a fist. He could feel the needle stuck in his vein as Steve continued to rub his thumb across the back of his left hand.

"I know. I just...We both have things we need to work on and I think we need time apart while we figure that out, okay?" Steve licked his lips before swallowing thickly. "It's doesn't have to be forever. I just...we just need time, Billy." Billy chocked on a sob before nodding and turning his head away from Steve.

"I get it," Billy said, sniffing quietly.

"Good. I uh...I can't stay. I've got to head back to the city. You know, work and meetings and shit. But, um, Billy...just promise me you won't try anything like this again. Please, just promise me." Billy closed his eyes before nodding, swallowing thickly as he turned to Steve.

"I promise, pretty boy." Steve squeezed his hand. As he stood up, he leaned forward to place a kiss on Billy's forehead.

"Everything's going to be okay, Bill. It'll all be okay." Steve paused in the door, taken in Billy's dejected form on the bed with the restraints wrapped around his wrists and ankles. "I love you, Billy."

He pretended he couldn't hear Billy sobbing as he made his way down the hallway.

***  
"I didn't realize they called you until it was too late," Hopper said as he slid onto the bench across from Steve, shaking out his own cigarette. Steve narrowed his eyes at the chief as he stubbed out his third cigarette and shook out another one.

"Would you have even told me if the hospital hadn't called me?" Steve hissed bitterly as he took a deep pull from his cigarette, his eyes trained on the emergency room doors. He could hear Hopper shift awkwardly before the man sighed.

"Once I was sure he was okay and got him checked back into the psych ward, yes, I would have told you," Hopper said slowly and Steve snorted as he shook his head.

"And what if he hadn't made it, huh? What then? Would you have just let me find out by myself months down the line when I get tired of everyone walking on egg shells? Jesus, Hopper! He tried to kill himself! You said you were looking out for him. You said he was okay!"

"And I thought he was. And I was wrong, okay? He's good at hiding when he's not, you know that. And I promise that I will keep a closer eye on him, Steve. And had things been worse, if I thought he wasn't going to make it I would definitely told you. But Steve, I didn't want to risk your sobriety. By the way your chain smoking right now, I'm betting I was right in that concern."

"I didn't go to rehab for fucking nicotine," Steve snarled around the cigarette between his teeth.

"I know, okay, I know. I'm sorry. The hospital called you before I even had a chance to even think if I should call you or not. It was hard enough to get ahold of the Hargrove's that I honestly wasn't even thinking." Hopper sighed, running a hand down his face. "You have every reason to be upset, Steve. But there's a lot of bigger things to worry about now. The main thing is getting Billy the help he needs. And keeping you clean. Just trust me. I'll take better care of things on this end, okay? I'll keep a better eye on everything. Just keep working on yourself and I'll take care of this."

"That's what you said before! Jesus, he could have fucking died at his own hand and no one was paying fucking attention! How am I supposed to be worrying about myself when no ones worrying about him?" Steve stood and started pacing the length of the small outside garden in front of the chief. Hopper climbed to his feet and moved to block Steve's path. He put his hands on Steve's shoulders, forcing the younger boy to look up at him.

"I know you have no reason to trust me and that this hasn't gone to plan. But I'm doing my best kid. We're all just doing our best. And I'm going to try to make this better, okay? I promise." Steve sighed, before nodding his head.

"I'm heading back to the city. If I leave now I can hit the meeting next door to my place at seven."

"That's a good idea. You call me if you need anything, okay? And I promise to keep you updated on everything with Billy."

"Sure, whatever you say," Steve mumbled as he headed off to the Beamer.

"Be careful!" Hopper called as Steve pulled out without another glance.

***  
Steve pulled up to his parking spot outside his apartment at 6:57, not even taking the time to go inside. He took off down the road, sprinting to get to the Methodist church a couple blocks away before 7. He could see the last person filing into the church basement as he got closer and he stopped to bend and catch his breath. Maybe he _was_ smoking too much.

Steve stood outside the church, trying to catch his breath before he went inside, The past 16 hours had been stressful and exhausting and the last thing he wanted to do was listen to people talk about about their experiences with drugs and what their latest triggering moment was. He paced back and forth several times in front of the door, trying to tell himself he needed to do this after everything that had happened that day.

Steve glanced across the street, taking in the red headed guy leaning against one of the buildings who had been staring at him. They made eye contact between cars speeding past and the guy winked. Steve had seen him handing around outside several of the meeting places before and had picked up from some of the other attendees that he was a dealer who always seemed to be looking for easy picks with some of the weaker addicts.

The brunette glanced at the door of the church, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. His mind went to how awful things had been today, how lonely he had been since moving to the city and how stressed out he was to be away from home. He swallowed thickly before turning away from the door and jogged across the street. He approached the man and leaned against the building next to the dealer.

"I've been watching you the past couple weeks," The guy said, shaking a cigarette out of his pack. "Didn't seem like the type to break, though." Steve grunted, letting his head fall back against the brick building. His eyes were trained on the sky and he never realized how much he missed the stars in Hawkins.

"It's been a real shitty day," Steve finally said and the dealer let out a chuckle.

"What you looking for, pretty boy?" The red head said, reaching out to push the hair out of Steve's face. Steve hesitated for a moment, searching the guys face. He had blue eyes like Billy's and a splash of freckles like the ones that covered Billy's nose when the light was just right. He was a little taller than Steve with muscles to die for. Steve hesitated with his bottom lip still between his teeth. He took a deep breath before finally giving the guy a small smile.

"However much coke $200 can buy me. And you." The red head smiled, winking at Steve.

"That I can do, pretty boy. Lead the way back to yours." Steve turned and took off towards his place, just assuming the man was following.

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry this took so long! Some how I suddenly have a very active social life and freee time is spent sleeping. I hope to have the next chapter up soon! This serious is obviously not going to follow cannon, but here's to season 3!


End file.
